


Be Sure to Wear Some Flowers in Your Hair

by AliceMcGee



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, maybe a bit of hurt/comfort, set after series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 11:48:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14135460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliceMcGee/pseuds/AliceMcGee
Summary: It's been six years since Trapper and Hawkeye's ways parted. Six angsty years for Trapper. But when he run into Hawkeye in San Francisco, he might get a chance to redeem himself... Or be punished for his selfish decision to not say goodbye to his supposed best friend.





	Be Sure to Wear Some Flowers in Your Hair

**Author's Note:**

> Title has absolutely nothing to do with the plot, it's just stuck in my head and refuses to let me think of something more fitting.

_San Francisco is really not my scene_ , Trapper thought, finishing his scotch. _Too many hills._

The hotel bar was so full of people Trapper wouldn’t find it surprising if it burst open. When he’d planned to come to San Francisco for a medical conference, he didn’t expect it would be such a blockbuster. Not being a fan of huge gatherings, he wasn’t enjoying his stay so far. And to think that he was there on his vacation instead of work time!

He was trying to decide whether to have another drink, go up to his room, or try to find some quieter bar when his brain picked up a familiar name in the chit-chat all around him.

“Dr. Pierce!” a female voice cried out in delight. “So nice to run into you again! Did I somehow miss your lecture?”

Trapper turned on his barstool, nearly falling down. He scanned the room, hope battling the fear that it was some other Dr. Pierce, someone boring and ordinary and not at all Hawkeye.

“Not this time, Dr. Spencer. I came to hear yours. It was spectacular, may I say.”

In the same instance he heard the reply, he saw him and his heart skipped a beat. He felt dizzy and realized he’d been holding his breath. It was him. It was Hawkeye, alive and well, standing in profile to Trapper just a few steps from him, talking to a tall blonde woman. Trapper could see that Hawk’s hair was no longer jet black, instead, it was peppered with silver, making him look older. He was skinnier, too. But his posture was self-confident and he was gesturing with his hands with the same energy like last time they’d seen each other. As Trapper continued his observation, Hawkeye threw his head back in laughter, the sound Trapper used to love hearing. It seemed that Hawkeye shrugged the war off far better than Trapper, who still woke up from nightmares more than few times a week, and found himself in a gloomy mood a lot.

And as if Hawkeye could sense Trapper’s gaze, he suddenly turned to face him.

They stared at each other across the room. Trapper had almost forgotten the bright blue of Hawkeye’s eyes and was caught by it like a deer in a headlight. A storm of emotions was raging inside him. There was an excitement of seeing a familiar and dear face after such a long time. A shame that never really left, for not saying a proper goodbye, for not reaching out after the war. A pain of the memories he’d tried so hard to suppress. A pleasure of the memories he’d cherished. And a whole lot of uncertainty what to do, what to say. What would Hawkeye do and say. A fear that he was holding a grudge over Trapper's sudden departure from 4077th.

Hawkeye said something to the other doctor and started walking towards him and Trapper slid from the barstool. He stopped himself right away, not trusting his knees. He was hungrily taking in as much of Hawkeye as he could.

“Trapper,” Hawkeye said, finally standing right in front of him.

“Hawk.” He wasn’t sure if he should hold out his hand. It seemed so insufficient, but then again, the time where they’d deemed casual touching normal was too long ago. Hawkeye solved it for him, suddenly grinning and throwing his arms around Trapper’s neck. Clearly, he was still as tactile as in Korea. Trapper hugged him back, maybe a little longer and closer than appropriate, but he couldn’t care less about what other people might be thinking. And with that hug, those long six years disappeared into a black hole. It was like he’d seen Hawk just that morning. Except for the guilt that seemed to be hooked in his soul, sharp and painful. But he’d learned to live with that.

They finally let go and Hawkeye gestured for the bartender, his other hand still lingering on Trapper’s arm.

“Two driest martini’s you can mix, please, with an olive each,” he ordered, not asking what Trapper was having. Then he turned back to Trapper. “This is the best surprise ever since Annabel Marks gave me a kiss for Valentine’s day in eighth grade. I had no idea you would be here!”

“Same here. How come I didn’t see your name on the list of attending doctors?” Trapper asked, postponing all awkward questions for later.

“Oh, I’m not here as a doctor. See, I quit my job three months ago. Had some money saved, so I’ve been kind of wandering around the states. Unemployed,” Hawkeye said, his voice cheerful. Trapper raised his eyebrows, but before he could say anything, their drinks arrived.

“Thank you,” Hawkeye beamed at the bartender. Trapper knew that smile so well his heart ached. They both drank and he closed his eyes. After coming back from Korea, he swore off martini, taking up the habit of drinking whiskey instead. The taste brought back more memories and with Hawkeye right next to him, it was like being back in 4077th. He almost expected the sound of choppers to ruin the moment. But when he opened his eyes, he was still in the hotel bar in San Francisco, with people in civil clothes and Hawkeye older than he remembered. But still the same person he… he what? Taking another sip, he tried to push the thought aside.

“And what job would it be you quit?” he asked.

“I didn’t feel like going back to surgery once I came back from Korea. Wasn’t sure I would be able to do anything finer than meatball. I was given a chance to teach at my Alma Mater and it was fine for some time. But I felt like the world owed me a proper holiday after the war, you know? I have some offers, but I don’t need to make a decision for another month. Anyways, enough about me. How you’ve been doing?” Hawk asked, his face becoming more serious.

“Well, I work at Boston General, been there since coming home,” Trapper said, not knowing what to add. The important things weren’t for telling in the bar, and the unimportant ones weren’t worth telling at all.

“I see,” Hawkeye said when he realized Trapper wasn’t going to elaborate. “Listen, do you wanna get out of here, go somewhere… I don’t know, quieter?”

“Like my room?” Trapper asked, his mouth quicker than his brain. He cursed himself right after saying it, hating the implications it brought.

But Hawkeye’s lips curled into a smile, genuine wide smile. “Sounds good,” he said and how could Trapper take it back now. So he paid for their drinks and bought a bottle of gin to go and they left the bar.

Immediately after the door of Trapper’s room closed, Hawkeye took off his tie and undid two buttons of his shirt. Trapper’s eyes were drawn to the skin of Hawk’s throat and he had to tear his stare away. Thinking back to Korea, with all the showers they’d shared and the countless moments of changing clothes around each other, he wondered how the hell he’d managed.

Hawkeye seemed oblivious as always, going to the shelf where two glasses sat. Trapper handed him the bottle and took off his tie too. He sat down on the bed, leaving the lone armchair for Hawk. But when Hawkeye handed him the drink, he plopped down right next to Trapper, not so close that they would touch, but close enough for Trapper to have to clear his throat.

“Cheers,” he said, raising the glass.

“Cheers,” Hawkeye echoed, touching his glass to Trapper’s. “How’s Louise?” he asked after taking a sip.

“Happy, I assume,” Trapper said, gulping his drink and holding his glass out for Hawkeye to refill. He did so with quirked eyebrows. “We’ve been divorced for… Three years. Wow, time really does fly.”

“What happened?” Hawkeye asked, his voice tender, much more than Trapper deserved.

“I guess I had one affair too many. The last girl, she was kind of crazy. Contacted Louise and claimed I got her pregnant. That was the last straw. To be honest, I think we’re far better off like this. She’s a female father Mulcahy when it comes to forgiveness - we’re friends now. She has the custody of our girls but lets me see them anytime I want. We still celebrate Christmas’ and birthdays and so together.”

“Well, you never really were a family man. Even though I think you’re a terrific father,” Hawkeye added and patted Trapper’s shoulder. Trapper half smiled and they sat there, both lost in their thoughts.

“Ain’t you gonna ask me why I didn’t say goodbye?” Trapper asked when the silence became too thick for him. He had to get this off his chest, he knew that, and there was no reason to postpone it, no matter how painful it would be.

“Trapper,” Hawkeye said, bumping him with his shoulder. His voice was full of compassion, and that stung more than any accusation would. “The past is in the past. I trust you had your reasons.”

“I did.” Trapper agreed, knocking back the rest of his gin. Hawk finished his too and refilled both their glasses.

“Then I’m not gonna ask you,” he said. Trapper expected to feel a relief, but it didn’t come. No matter how understanding Hawk was, the only way to make peace with his own conscience seemed to be explaining himself.

“What if I want you to ask me?” he whispered.

“Do you?”

“Yes,” Trapper breathed out, scared and determined at the same time.

“Then why didn’t you say goodbye, Trapper?” Hawkeye asked, his tone carefully neutral. “We were best friends. Or so I thought.”

“We were. But I just…” Trapper paused. Hilarious. It was his idea to talk about it and now he couldn’t find the words. He took another swig for courage and to buy some time. “I didn’t know how. Had you been there, I would… I don’t know. I would come up with something. But you were in Tokyo and we couldn’t reach you and I just couldn’t figure what to put on the paper…” His voice broke and he was surprised by the tears that escaped his eyes. He turned away in shame. Hawkeye placed his glass on the floor, took Trapper’s too, and then grabbed Trapper’s shoulder, gently tugging on him to turn back again.

“It’s alright, Trapper,” he said, caressing Trapper’s cheek. “It’s alright. I understand.”

“No, you don’t,” Trapper said, fighting the urge to press a kiss into Hawk’s palm. “There were things I wanted to tell you-”

“I know,” Hawkeye cut him off, offering a little smile.

“Stop interrupting me, will ya?” Trapper smacked Hawkey’s thigh. His hand stayed there. He wanted to withdraw it. Instead, his fingers brushed Hawkeye through the fabric of his pants.

Hawkeye looked down and then up into Trapper’s face. His irises were almost swallowed by the black of his pupils. And then Trapper must have stopped thinking, as he suddenly found himself kissing Hawkeye. Exactly how he’d wanted to do back in Korea. Exactly how he regretted not doing, every time he’d laid awake in the dark. He told himself he should stop, but Hawkeye’s lips under his were just too soft and pliant. Trapper realized that Hawkeye was kissing him back and the thought made him pull away. Hawkeye’s eyes were glittering, his cheeks flushed and lips parted and he looked so gorgeous Trapper couldn’t do anything but lean back for more kisses. The idea of Hawkeye wanting him was as intoxicating as the finest whiskey.

He was only half aware of Hawkeye pulling him closer and down. He was fully aware of his arousal and the hardness he felt where his leg pushed against Hawkeye’s groin.

Reaching up, his trembling fingers started unbuttoning Hawkeye’s shirt as Hawkeye clung to him, both hands running through Trapper’s curls. It felt like forever, but then he could shove Hawk’s shirt off his shoulders. Their lips parted and Trapper quickly got rid of Hawk’s undershirt and finally, there was skin, Hawkeye’s bare chest for him to kiss and caress. Hawkeye gasped for air at every little kiss Trapper dotted along his clavicle. With some logistic difficulties, they managed to get off Trapper’s shirt too and then they each took care of their remaining clothes.

The first contact between their naked bodies sparked a fire in Trapper’s belly. They touched each other like they were two madmen on the verge of death and the only way to stay alive was to cling to each other, to kiss and bite and thrust against each other. There was no finesse to it. They rolled around the bed, almost falling down few times. They moaned with pleasure and with desperation for each other. With the joy of being together and with the sadness of having missed each other for so long.

They both came almost at the same time, but they couldn’t stop kissing, couldn’t stop touching each other, savoring each other, tasting whatever patch of skin they could reach. And gradually, their arousal came back.

Trapper didn’t know how long it took them before they ran out of passion. The bedcover was effectively ruined and they were both sticky with semen and sweat. He didn’t mind and judging by Hawkeye’s satisfied expression, neither did he. But when Hawk started to breathe deep and slow, signaling he was falling asleep, Trapper gently shook his shoulder.

“Come on, Hawk,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “Can’t go sleep like this. We both need a shower.”

Hawkeye sighed, but let go of Trapper and sat up, stretching. The smooth curve of his back made Trapper’s mouth water, bringing all sorts of ideas where he would have the chance to enjoy the similar sight. But he was spent for that night. He reached for his unfinished gin.

Hawkeye stood up and went to the bathroom, leaving the door open. An invitation Trapper couldn't refuse.

The shower turned into more kissing under hot water and rubbing against each other’s body just for the pleasure of the contact, not trying to start anything more. Trapper couldn’t remember another person that would make him crave such a simple sensation. Hawkeye was the one and only, and Trapper had known that for some time, just not letting his mind to ponder over that. A luxury he finally could enjoy.

When the water turned cold, they dried themselves and went back to the bed, throwing the bedcover on the floor. That was a next day’s problem.

They snuggled under the blanket. Trapper wanted to tell Hawkeye so many things, but the sleep was already claiming them both. And it was for the first time since forever he was sure there would be no nightmares that night. Hugging Hawkeye close to him, he let out a happy sigh and drifted off.

 

* * *

 

Trapper woke up and something felt odd. He stayed still, trying to decipher what it was, and when he figured it out, his heart clenched. He opened his eyes but didn’t have to look around to know he was alone. The door to the bathroom was open and it was dark in there. Hawkeye’s clothes were gone too. Had it not been for the soreness of his body, he would swear the whole night was just an alcohol induced dream.

He got up. Didn’t allow himself to feel anything. Went through the motions of morning hygiene and dressing up. Noticed a love bite just below his collarbone. He stared at it for a few seconds, but then it disappeared beneath his undershirt.

He took the stained bedcover and went to the bathroom, trying to clean the worst with a wet towel. When he finished, it was still apparent what had happened to it, but at least, now it didn’t give away how many men were participating. He knew he had to be careful.

It was very early, but it felt like the right time to leave. The emptiness of the room was just too much. After packing his suitcase, he took a proper look around, against his own will.

There was no note. Which hurt just a little. And if there was a tear or two falling from his eyes - well, the tiny amount of water took just a few seconds to vaporize in the warm air of Californian morning, leaving almost no trace, just like Hawkeye. After all, what else did he deserve?

He marched out of the room, but closing the door he couldn’t keep his eyes from lingering on the bed. For one infinite second, he could have seen Hawkeye’s face again, propped on Trapper’s chest, a tiny smile on his lips and hair wet from sweat falling into his face.

Shaking his head, he shut the door with a soft click and checked his watch, even though there was no reason to hurry. He still had two weeks of vacation before him. Maybe he could stop in Vegas or something.

He was walking down the hall to elevators when the door of the left one opened. Someone came out.

Trapper stopped dead in his tracks as he was once again caught by the bluest blue he’d ever known. The elevator closed and rumbled down to the hotel lobby. They were alone in the hall, standing across from each other, like two statues, like a modern art installation.

“Hawkeye,” Trapper started but didn’t finish. Couldn’t even think of the ending to that sentence. They stared at each other and Trapper felt slightly light-headed, blood roaring in his ears.

“You thought I left you,” Hawkeye said softly, tilting his head like a curious puppy.

Trapper only managed to nod, his mouth dry and his eyes wet.

“Because of how you left me in Korea, right?”

Another nod.

“I see. That would make sense, wouldn’t it?” Hawkeye said, slowly crossing the space between them until he was right in front of Trapper. Then he crossed the distance a bit more, invading Trapper’s personal space. He’d never shown any respect for it anyway. “Except, it wouldn’t. Not even at all,” he whispered, his hand finding its place over Trapper’s heart. It was beating fast and hard and Trapper still couldn’t do anything but stare at Hawkeye, not really believing that he really came back, that he really wasn’t trying to punish him for what he had done.

Hawkeye leaned in for a kiss, but someone somewhere coughed and Trapper jumped. He’d forgotten where they were.

Still not saying anything, he grabbed Hawkeye’s elbow and dragged him back to his room. He almost tore the door from its hinges, but then they were inside and Trapper’s suitcase fell on the floor with a loud _thud_. Half a second later, Trapper was kissing Hawkeye with all his force, crushing his lips and digging his fingers into Hawkeye’s hips, holding Hawkeye as close as he could. He would have gladly passed out from oxygen deprivation, rather than stop kissing Hawkeye, but Hawkeye tore his mouth away, gasping for air. Trapper didn’t let go of him, pulling him back, gently this time, pressing their foreheads together. They were both breathing heavily.

“Trapper, I forgive you. I forgave you a long time ago. I need you to forgive yourself, too,” Hawkeye said, placing his hand on the nape of Trapper’s neck and tangling his fingers firmly in his hair.

And finally, Trapper found his voice again. Found the words, too. “Hawkeye,” he said, closing his eyes, but opening them right away. He wanted to see Hawkeye’s face, he wanted to never stop seeing it. “I’m so sorry.”

Hawkeye’s response was to kiss him again, this time slow and tender, the kiss telling him that it was alright, that they were alright, that they would always be alright.

The tenderness carried over to them stripping each other’s clothes off and falling on the bed and making love with their lips and tongues and eyes and hands. The desperate edge from the last night was gone, replaced by cautious hope and optimism. They were in the same place both literally and figuratively, and they were determined to make it work. Against the odds, against the world that wouldn’t understand and people that wouldn’t forgive. They were as brave as only people in love can be, and even though it wasn’t certain if that bravery would last for more than few hours, they knew the most important thing a person could know. They were in it together.

* * *

When they woke up again, it was half past ten. Just the time for a little while of cuddling before checking out of the hotel. Trapper let Hawkeye use the bathroom first, snuggling the blanket around himself for few extra moments. He took deep breaths, loving the scent of him and Hawkeye combined. He almost drifted off again when Hawkeye came back from the bathroom and pulled the blanket from him. Trapper grunted as the sudden light blinded him, but Hawkeye made it up to him by placing a playful kiss on his lips.

Calculating just how much time they had before the room service would interrupt them, he tried to pull Hawkeye down into his arms.

“Don’t even think about that.” Hawkeye laughed as he extricated himself from Trapper.

“Where were you?” Trapper asked and got up. “In the morning, I mean?”

“I had to change my clothes so people wouldn’t know I spent a night here with you,” Hawkeye explained, finding the unfinished bottle of gin and pondering over it for a while. Then he threw it on the bed, next to Trapper’s suitcase. “I told you and you said it was okay, but you probably weren’t awake enough to register me. I ran into Dr. Spencer and couldn’t think of any excuse to come back earlier. Sorry for scaring you.”

“Serves me right,” Trapper said, remains of the bitter guilt audible in his voice.

“Stop that,” Hawkeye told him with a furrowed brow and pointed a finger at him, the same gesture Kathy always made when she was upset with him. Trapper chuckled, surprised by the lightness in his chest that had replaced the melancholy at some point in the last few hours.

“Okay. I will,” he promised and went to the bathroom. The mirror showed him a different face than he was used to seeing. Improved one. The wrinkle between his eyebrows wasn’t so prominent anymore and the tense lines around his lips had disappeared almost completely. He shook his head and turned on the water.

He came back to the room to find Hawkeye lounging in the armchair with his hands clasped behind his head, an image of contentment.

“So what now?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Hawkeye shrugged. “I have all the time of one month and no plan, so it’s up to you.”

“I have fifteen more days of vacation. Thought I would make a road trip back to Boston instead of flying there and trying to kill my time. You up for that?”

“Me?” Hawkeye grinned and jumped up to his feet. “Up for a string of nights in shitty motel rooms, committing all kinds of immoral acts with my favorite man? How could I ever say no?”

Trapper laughed. “Yeah, we’re not staying in shitty motel rooms. I kinda got used to some comfort.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Hawkeye objected.

“I’m sure you could find some way to amuse yourself,” Trapper said, taking a look around to see if there was anything more to be packed.

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Hawkeye said, slowly looking Trapper up and down, his lips a dirty smirk that sent heat through Trapper’s veins. Not able - and not really wanting, either - to resist the temptation, he went to kiss Hawkeye. He wondered if there would come a day when he would have enough of Hawk’s taste. Probably not.

A few minutes later, they stood in front of the door. Hawkeye squeezed Trapper’s hand and leaned in for one last quick kiss, then opened the door and walked through it. Trapper stood there for a moment longer, his heart swelled with happiness.

“You coming?” Hawkeye called, looking over his shoulder. “We need to get my things, too.”

“Yeah,” Trapper said and left the room, closing the door behind him and knowing his six-year-long misery was finally over. He didn’t know what the future held, but it sure seemed bright from his point of view.


End file.
